Julia hasn’t thought of that. Wills were something for adults to worry about. “I’m sure she must have,” Julia says. “She was a lawyer.”

“Yeah, well, yes, she did, and she left everything to me. The problem is…the house isn’t in her name.” His voice is a whisper.

Julia waits.

“It’s held in the name of a company. Firebird Investments.” He shows her the papers in the folder. “My dad started making phone calls. They don’t call back. Their website is super basic. No one knows who this company is. It’s like in a movie—it’s like a front company.”

“Why would she buy a house and then not have it in her name?”

“I guess the answer is that someone bought it for her.”

“Bought. Her. A. House. For real.”

“Yeah.”

“Who would buy your mom a house?” Most of the homes in Winding Creek had been moderately priced when first built, but the property values in Lakehaven skyrocketed as Austin grew and money poured in from Californian and New England buyers. Now the homes cost well over twice what they had fifteen years ago. She knew that because she’d heard her parents talk about whether or not to sell once Grant started college… The money would help finance his education, but where would they buy a house in Austin at a reasonable price? It was a dilemma.

“My dad looked up Firebird Investments. They don’t seem to exist. I mean, they’re not at the address used in the home purchase papers. At least not now.”

Mystery upon mystery. But she thinks, sickeningly, that the solution to the murder lies in her boot. “I need to go outside. I need some fresh air.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m going through your dead mother’s clothes first thing in the morning and it’s overwhelming,” she says snappishly, when she didn’t mean to use those words or that tone. Ned’s mouth trembles, but she cannot stand to see him cry right now. It would undo her grief and her rage. So she pushes past him and goes out into the yard. The day is cloudy, perfect for mourning, and she sinks to her knees in the grass.

What is she going to do? The weight of her bad choice presses down on her like a giant’s fist.

If she shows this phone to the police, Ned will be exposed as a…drug dealer. There are no kinder words. Sure, he wasn’t trafficking heroin, but what he was doing was illegal. Earlier she’d done an internet search, and yes, there were examples of nice suburban kids getting busted for drug dealing at high schools and colleges, and guess what, often they went to prison. She knows about the ring. She hasn’t reported it. With a murder complicating this, she knows she is in serious trouble.